


Wrath (Ira)

by acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, Nightkeepyr, Weareallstoriesintheend



Series: Got Sinning on My Mind [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angry Sex, Arrow sex, Heightened Emotions, M/M, NSFW, Outdoor Sex, Violent Thoughts, wrath - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheaptrickandacheesyoneline/pseuds/acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightkeepyr/pseuds/Nightkeepyr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weareallstoriesintheend/pseuds/Weareallstoriesintheend
Summary: Sex.Seven Sins Style.Wrath...That sonofabitch.He was gonna fucking kill Oliver.





	Wrath (Ira)

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go with part two. Another one by [Nightkeepyr](archiveofourown.org/users/Nightkeepyr/works)
> 
> Again, I'll say this one is guy on guy....if that's not your thing, see you hopefully for the next one :)

 

Wrath (Ira)

\---->

 

_“Men often make up in wrath what they want in reason.” ~ William. R Alger_

  


The bastard was late.

That was it.

It.

 

He kept telling himself that as he shot off another text, simultaneously rolling his eyes, and trying to curb the growing niggle when there was still no response five minutes later.

 

He drained the last of his water, and tossed the empty bottle over the bar, into the recycling bin; ignoring Roy’s raised eyebrow.

 

He repeated the mantra as he contemplated calling Diggle, or Felicity, both of them, to find out if they knew what the deal was that night, but Felicity still had one more night in Vegas, and Diggle was...somewhere else. The other man hadn't exactly been in a share deets with the other pain in the ass white boy kinda mood, the last time he’d seen him.

 

Repeated it again as he keyed in the code to Verdant’s basement, and as the door shut and locked behind him. And again with each step down, willing it to be real, and himself to not freak out.

 

Until he got to the second last one.

 

The metal rail rattled beneath his palm as he jerked to a stop. Blood rushed in his ears, loud enough to make Tommy feel as though he was submerged under water. Nothing else in room registered through the haze of sinking...drowning.  Nothing except that fucking navy Henley, jeans, and shoes left in a haphazard pile, and the phone with the flash of unread messages...most of them probably from Tommy. Nothing except the emptiness where Oliver was _supposed_ to be, if not in the actual club.  


A cold sweat broke out the back of Tommy’s neck, erasing any hope of that keep calm bullshit as he realised that it wasn't just a case of Ollie and his issues with time keeping. God, it was a kick straight to his nuts.

  
Fear melded with something darker as he stalked over to the glowing computer screen, still displaying the open tabs. Tabs showing info on a Triad powwow going down on the other side of town. With some of the major players in the game. Names that were on the country's Most Wanted Lists, faces that were on the goddamn news on a regular basis, were eyeballing Tommy. Eyeballing him right next to the glaring ‘you are here’ dot pinpointing Starling City's resident vigilante’s current location.

 

Tommy glared at the letters and pixels screaming out the obvious, till his eyes went blurry and the muscles in his jaw ached. Still, nothing in front of him miraculously changed.

  
That sonofabitch. He was gonna fucking kill Oliver.

 

His mind whirled furiously, struggling to fully process as that something a little darker echoed in his skull, and between his frantic heartbeats.

 

He acted on instinct, barely aware of storming back upstairs, through the staff exit, to his car.

 

His car that smelled like Oliver, his crisp male scent embedded in the goddamn upholstery, mingling with the cologne Tommy had put on earlier. The combination only pissed him off even more, turning the edges of his vision red.

 

He peeled out of the lot, white knuckling the steering wheel as he laid on the gas. He punched down the gears, not giving a fuck about the porsche’s transmission as the tyres ate up the asphalt, and his headlights arced over the bridge leading into the even shittier part of the Glades.

 

He pulled over a couple of blocks away. And for a moment he second guessed high tailing it out there, instead of checking to see if he could’ve reached that jackass on the comms. But then he remembered Oliver's apparent sincerity when he’d all but regularly promised Tommy he was being careful, and an unexpected wave of betrayal slammed through him, flooding him with bitter resentment. Goddamn fucking liar.

 

He spat out a litany of livid curses, and slammed the wheel with his palm, before yanking off his seat belt to find that deceitful motherfucker. He just about remembered to lock up. Not that it meant anything round that neighbourhood. If it did get jacked, it would be on Oliver too, cos at this point Tommy couldn’t see passed the red enough to give two shits about his customised ride.

 

Tommy tucked his hands in the pockets of his coat and ducked down a side street, made his way passed a couple of buildings with missing doors and broken glass everywhere; and weeds growing through cracks in the sidewalk darkened with years of grime; and streetlights that were strictly for decoration.

 

Ordinarily he’d be at least a little wary of walking in the shadows of the Glades at this time of night...at any time really. But anger was a powerful distraction and deterrent for anyone who considered approaching him.

 

He found Oliver’s location easily enough. This building seemed slightly less unkempt, as though someone was putting in some minimal effort to make it worthy of murder, counterfeiting, drugs, prostitution, and any other hobbies deemed acceptable by criminal organisations. God, he tried really hard not to think about just how well _this_ Oliver fitted in with a lot of those extra curriculars as he made sure the coast was clear, and scaled the rusty chain link fence.

 

The wail of far off sirens cut through the cooling night air as Tommy shifted onto the balls of his feet, trying not to kick up gravel as he slowly crossed the dilapidated forecourt. He  cursed himself as he realised he was instinctively doing what Oliver would do - lightening his footfalls. Jesus, seriously? Of all the things to rub off on him, it had to be how to make less noise as he was initiating himself into the art of B and E. Okay, he wasn’t exactly sure how much breaking was on the itinerary, but the entry...he was definitely not backing down from that. Nope, he was all about that tonight. Damnit, he wouldn’t have to be doing _any_ of this shit if his goddamn boyfriend hadn’t tried to get away with this reckless fuckery.

 

Low level rage heated Tommy’s veins, burned his bones as he crept through a hole in the fucking wall, mumbling to himself as he shook dust, and God knows what else off his coat and jeans. He was adding the dry cleaning to Oliver’s tab too. Asshole.

 

The interior  made the outside look like a fucking _Architectural Digest_ cover. Christ, it was a dump. A perfect setup for a horror movie. Scaffolding ran from the ground up to the bowed, leaking ceiling, at least three floors high. Heavy duty plastic sheeting separating sections, discarded hard hats; and a shit ton of paint cans, a lot of them open, added to the ambience, hitting up the creep factor. It was eerie as hell, and the lack of sound in this shithole set his already fuming nerves on edge, and made him hyper aware of the heartbeat pulsing in his throat; and his harsh, ragged breaths.

 

Tommy lost track of time, but not the sense of urgency, as he snuck through each section, listening intently for any sign of life. He needed to find Oliver stat. The air in here was stifling, mouldy, tainted with something sour that grew stronger with each step forward, making him swallow convulsively for a few moments before self preservation kicked in, allowing him to breathe through his mouth before he passed out.

 

He was about to circle back to the entrance, when the reverberation of more than a scuffle hit his ears. He honed in on, and followed the tell tale soundtrack of a fight, and something in his chest splintered. A tiny part of him had maybe still been hoping he wouldn't find his other half here. But with every grunt, and punch, and kick, each moment of impact, and thwick of an arrow, he felt more heat sizzle down the notches of his spine, driving out that naive belief, filling up the cracks with molten fury.

 

By the time he managed to scramble outside - grabbing a loose galvanised tube on the way - and got eyes on the action, he was wound tighter than a spring, his skin felt like it was crawling. And then the visual fully registered.

 

Oliver was alone. The other guy...or guys, no longer in sight. Oliver was on the roof. The motherfucking roof that was caving in. Buckling beneath his boots.

 

Tommy barely had time to suck in a panicked lungful of air before the entire world seemed to shake around him. Time sped up, slowed down, the groan and snap of metal imprinted on his soul as glass and brick rained down around him. But all he could see was Oliver falling.

 

Tommy didn’t think. He just ran.

 

He made tracks towards the back of the building, rounding it in a shaken daze, damn near crippled with nausea and bone deep dread. He half skidded as he came to a stop, narrowly missing the rear end of an SUV parked right next to a door, as he saw Oliver swing through the air, with the support of a grappling arrow. Like he was Tarzan in the concrete jungle. Like it was no big fucking deal. Like he’d jumped off, not fallen.

 

Jumped...Jumped.

 

Goddamn it. Tommy could not believe this shit.

 

Oliver’s feet just about touched the floor when Tommy moved. The urge to hurt welled up inside, twisting, fierce, pulsating in him, from head to toe. He barely managed to beat back the aggression as he lunged forward.

 

“Are you out of your fucking mind!”

 

The Arrow whirled around in disbelief, his body locked up, clearly on defense. He didn't relax when he caught of Tommy...and his weapon of choice, instead he only seemed to coil tauter.

 

“What are you doing here?” He demanded,  the distortion of his voice, a mind fuck and a half that didn't help push aside the _hurt, hurt, hurt._

 

“The fuck- Me? What are _you d_ oing here?” Tommy spat back at him.

 

“Tommy -”

 

“No. No. Fuck, no. Turn that shit off.  I wanna hear whatever bullshit you're gonna try and feed me from you. _You._ ”

 

“Jesus,” Oliver murmured, but he turned off the modulator,  “Why are you here? You shouldn't be here.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s too dangerous -”

 

“You’re fucking kidding, right? You’ve got to be kidding. You’re hitting me with ‘dangerous’ - I - that’s fucking rich.” He threw his arms out, and dropped the tube.

 

Oliver shifted slightly, widening his stance. The creak of leather as it tightened across his  thighs, his shoulders, and arms, highlighted the tension rolling off every part of him.

God, Tommy hated not being able to see his eyes, to get a read on where he was at. The shadows beneath his hood was helluva disorienting. Hated that he was noticing the way Oliver's muscles moved and rippled under the suit. Damn the fucker for looking so good.

 

“We both know you and I being here is _not_ the same.”

 

“I swear to God, if you tell me how much you've trained for this, and that this is your job -”

 

“But it is.”

 

“Aced that interview, did you? Getting the full benefits package?” Tommy sneered.

 

A couple of heartbeats passed. Then a few more.

 

"You said you were okay with this. With everything."

  
"Yes I did. Okay, as in you're part of a team now. Not fucking doing this shit without backup. God, Oli- The Triad. By yourself." He hissed, fighting the adrenaline surging through his body.

 

"I managed before."

 

Yeah. That totally wasn't making Tommy feel any better. In fact knowing, that Oliver had gone up against them before, once while Tommy was on their turf with him, had violent acid churning in his gut.

  
"Jesus Christ. How are you not getting this.” He tugged his hair in frustration. “You could've gotten badly hurt tonight. Or worse. You still fucking bleed!”

 

Oliver’s shoulders moved in a shrug so infinitesimal, it made Tommy squint in the darkness.

  
"So what."  


Those two words, said quietly, without any damn inflection, so dismissively, sliced through him. Made it hard to breathe.

 

"You fucking asshole -" Tommy’s voice cracked on a half yelled snarl, the pain and anger...the heartache, gnawing at him. His throat felt thick, and he cleared it, trying to get rid of the lump forming. "Is this a fucking game,  is your life a goddamn game to you? Are _we_ nothing to you?” He shouted through gritted teeth.

 

Oliver stood there, completely rigid, not answering as Tommy’s chest heaved, his body trembling.

 

Something inside of him broke. The leash on his composure snapped. And Tommy’s fist flew towards the asshole’s jaw.

 

He heard the hitch in Oliver’s breath as he reacted, blocking the punch before it connected, by clutching Tommy’s hand in his own.

 

The unexpected sensation of smooth leather on his skin whipped Tommy’s head up in surprise, he shook it off and tried to pull back. Oliver didn't let go.

 

Damnit.  He needed this. Needed to get rid of this festering furnace. But Oliver wasn't letting him. Oliver still wasn't saying anything, wasn't doing anything except keeping him in place. It sent Tommy off the deep end, unleashing everything he’d been loosely trying to hold back.

 

“Huh? Is that it. You wanna end things - but you're too chicken shit to actually tell me. So you pull this. You left me behind!” Tommy ripped his hand free, and shoved Oliver hard enough to make him stumble back.

 

“Don’t, don't do this - ” Oliver growled, but Tommy flat out ignored him, and did it again.

 

“You scared the ever loving shit out of me. Not giving a fuck about how it felt -”

 

“Tommy-”

 

Tommy pushed forward, going at him a little harder.

 

“Not even a heads up. Knowing I lost you once! _Five fucking years!_ You just left tonight. Huh? You thought it was okay to put me through this shit. Or did you think I wouldn't find out. You were gonna lie to me. Is that it Oliver - Lie to me before you ended it - leave me again!”

 

Tommy didn't even care that he had said Oliver’s name out loud.

 

He was burning in the grip of the helplessness that had consumed him. The denial - for the first two and a half years at least. God, he’d chased every lead, any scrap of info, trying to find Oliver as he struggled to believe it wasn't some nightmare, even after every one of them failed and gave him nothing. Nothing but the scars no one could see, but he damn sure could feel. He was drowning in that devastating loss.

 

He kept on pushing. And yelling. And pushing.

 

“You said you'd be careful. You looked me in the goddamn eye. How could you - how could you.” He was so mad, he felt dizzy.

 

“ _This_ was never meant to hurt you. It wasn’t - there wasn't time to -”

 

“But it does!” He shouted over Oliver's excuses, “You jumped off a fucking building, Ollie - and... I don't know what the hell else! You were alone. No ears. No other eyes.You’re fucking killing me. And you don't care! You don't care!”

 

“Of course I fucking care!” Oliver snapped back, his severity falling away without warning as he pushed back, pushed Tommy back. Oliver was probably leaving bruises on Tommy’s chest, but he couldn't feel it anything physical right then. But he tasted the twisted satisfaction of Oliver _reacting_ , rushing over his tongue. “I lost you too! Fuck, Tommy. I came back with shit you don't deserve! You think that's easy for me? You think seeing you _right here_ in the middle of this fucking mess makes me feel _good?_ Fuck you. Fuck you for saying I don't care when you know how I feel about you. You know how I fight for you, to keep you safe, not just the City. And that sometimes the thought of getting home to you is the only way to do it. You know!  And you show up here with a fucking pole. Fuck you. A pole, Tommy. Where’s _your_ backup, huh?”

 

“I don’t fucking know! Who the hell was I supposed to call? You got a speed dial to some other vigilante hotline I don't know about? I'm sorry I gave a shit enough to drag your sorry ass out of here! You couldn't take one night off - Jesus. One night...” Tommy had only asked for one.

 

“I didn’t ask for this to go down tonight.”

 

“No, but you still went looking though - Oh, my God- this probably isn’t the first time either, was it-”

 

“I wouldn't have if I thought you were gonna show up!” Oliver shoved Tommy till his legs brushed the side of the car.

“I didn’t expect you here. You were supposed to wait - to be safe! You were never supposed to be part of this - God, not like this!”

 

Tommy’s heart felt like it wanted out of his rib cage as he stared at Oliver, trying to process the raw, pained exclamation echoing in the air. His mouth opened to reply. Then shut again. He couldn't form a response.  Couldn't mentally grasp onto anything enough so that he could bite back. Could only feel Oliver’s anger almost as strongly as his own.

 

He wasn't sure which one of them moved first. He was vaguely aware of the bow disappearing somewhere before Oliver’s palms spread on his hips, while he reached up; gripped Oliver’s throat, squeezing hard, before he slipped his hand under the hood; clasping the back of Oliver’s neck, tugging him closer, crushing their lips together.

 

Oliver growled against his mouth and crowded him, throwing Tommy slightly off balance. His shoulders crashed back against the window behind him as Oliver moved in even closer, kissing him hard enough to smash his lips against his teeth, bruising the inside of them.

 

Tommy placed his other hand on Oliver’s solid chest, curling his fingers around the leather, and strap of his quiver, yanking Oliver to him. His muscles rippled beneath Tommy’s knuckles, and Tommy pulled him even closer, irrationally angry he was so aware of the bastard’s flexing pecs. He dug his nails into his neck, pressing down until Oliver winced in a ragged breath.

 

Tommy surged forward, and bit down into Oliver’s bottom lip till he drew a little blood. He shuddered, and Tommy held on tighter,  pushing his hips forward as he sucked Oliver into his mouth, licking along the teeth marks, lapping it up till it was all gone.

 

The low rumble coming from Oliver’s throat, vibrated along Tommy’s lips and he worked Oliver’s mouth open, sliding, rubbing their tongues together.

Mint, and the faint trace of coffee, plus the very familiar, fucking addictive taste of Oliver sans copper, flooded his mouth.

Oliver's grip on his hips tightened, and Tommy was painfully conscious of each digit and thumb through the layers separating them there. He exhaled into Tommy then immediately sucked that same breath out of his lungs, the borderline hostility pouring off him as he seemed to loom over Tommy, tilting him back till his head knocked against metal, and Tommy moaned brokenly around his tongue.

 

Tommy tried to move, but Oliver made sure he had nowhere else to go, made sure Oliver was all he tasted, felt; that Oliver was all he knew. Tommy’s cock pulsed uncontrollably between them, and he could feel Oliver’s against his thigh, the rigid lines of him throbbing, encased in leather.

 

Oliver’s hands moved abruptly to Tommy’s hair, pulling on the strands almost like Tommy had earlier, keeping him in place as he pulled back, leaving only a couple of inches between their kiss-swollen mouths.

 

Tufts of air hit Tommy’s parted lips, and he could feel his skin flush deeper, hotter under Oliver’s weighted gaze. This close, his eyes looked eerily stormy, feral, still half in shadow beneath the cover of his hood; green paint smeared across his cheekbones. Oliver exhaled loudly before his lips were back on Tommy’s, even more brutally than before.

 

Lightning struck low in his stomach, their teeth clacked as their tongues battled for dominance. Tommy grabbed hold of his face, almost giving in to Oliver’s relentless licking, and sucking, and biting.

 

“Fuck you, Tommy. Fuck you.” Oliver cursed against his top lip, as he yanked Tommy's right knee up around his hip, and slotted himself between Tommy's thighs, pinning him to the car. Dick on dick.

 

“Oh, god.” He choked out as Oliver’s fingers tightened in his hair, baring Tommy’s throat to him. Oliver bent back down, and nudged the collar of Tommy’s shirt aside with his nose, scraping the bristles of his scruff along his neck, before latching on to his Adam's apple pulling it between his teeth hard enough to mark his skin, making Tommy cry out in pained ecstasy as the bruise formed beneath Oliver’s lips. The more he tried to move, the harder Oliver sucked, slowly fucking drugging Tommy with each pull of his goddamn gorgeous mouth,  and slide of his cock against Tommy’s.

 

By the time Oliver was satisfied with his work, Tommy was a mess. Fucking high. Desparate. Angry as hell, but so fucking horny, he could feel the pre-come pulsing out his cock.

Oliver pulled one hand out of Tommy’s hair, and eased back just enough to cup his hard-on, hissing against his neck as he felt Tommy straining beneath his palm.

 

“God, Oliver.”

 

Oliver lifted his head, and Tommy groaned long and low. He’d thought Oliver’s eyes were wild before. Now...now they were next level - huge, furious, dark, heated. And everything in between.

 

Jesus Christ. He was fucking beautiful like this.

 

“You shouldn't have come here.” Oliver growled, tightening his grip on Tommy's cock. Taking things to the wrong side of painful. But fuck, Tommy loved it.  Needed it. Wanted more.

 

“Fuck you.” Tommy threw his words back at him, before grabbing Oliver’s hand and pushing down harder.

 

He half winced, half groaned, as he squirmed against the car, canting his hips up into their grip as much as he could, dying for some friction. Tommy’s eyes squeezed shut as he guided Oliver in rough, tormenting, oh so good strokes.

 

“Ah. God, yes.” Tommy breathed unsteadily.

 

Oliver snarled, as he fisted the back of his hair by the roots, and slid Tommy up the glass till both his legs clamped around Oliver’s waist.

 

Tommy dove forward, plastered their mouths back together, trapping their hands, until Oliver used Tommy’s body as leverage to lift him, and slam him down onto the hood of the SUV, hard enough to buckle the metal. He was used to how fucking hot it was when Oliver moved him around like it was no biggie, but the darker emotions pulsing between them, cranked his dial way up, and he thanked God there were no sensors to set off the alarm, because Tommy didn't want to stop. He needed Oliver to do whatever he wanted to him, needed it in a way he couldn't describe.

 

Oliver continued to jerk him off through his jeans. Giving him more pressure, damn near chafing Tommy's dick as an orgasm built up, then easing up when he felt Tommy spasm. And starting it all over again with merciless tugs over the denim.

 

“Oliver...” Tommy begged feverishly. Over and over. He couldn't get any other words out, he was slowly forgetting what they were anyway.

“Say... it. Tell...me.” Oliver demanded harshly, in between bruising kisses.

 

He shook his head, trying to focus.

 

“I-I don't know - ah shit - how the f-fuck do you keep - jesus- doing this to me.”

 

Every time Tommy thought he was up to date with Oliver’s fucking skills, he was proven wrong...Christ,  they hadn't even gotten to the fucking yet.

 

“But you love it. You love what I do to you, Tommy. Don't you.”

  
"Fuck...Always...don't stop...please don't stop."

  
"Even here...even now..."

 

Tommy could hear the vulnerability in Oliver’s voice as he trailed off, and it killed him. It twisted him up inside.  But he...he fucking _liked_ it, hearing that hint of self doubt. Jesus, he knew it was majorly fucked up, but he couldn't help it, didn't really want to. Not then anyway. Not while he was feeling so raw and turned on.

 

“Tommy?”

  
"Yes. Oliver. Yes."

 

Weirdly, his consent only seemed to piss Oliver off even more. He could feel it in the bite of Oliver’s grip. And, damn if that didn't rev Tommy’s adrenaline even hotter. He was grateful for the lube he tended to carry around, because Oliver looked mad enough to fuck him without it...not that...not that...he would ever -

 

“Then say it.” Oliver’s thumb pressed down on Tommy’s tip, rubbing in distracting,  not quite hard enough circles, completely throwing off his thought process.

 

“Fuuuck.” God, Tommy didn't even recognise his own voice.

 

His head rolled, and thumped back against the windshield. He had that same feeling of drowning he had earlier...except now, it was a hundred times stronger. His pulse was out of fucking  control. His chest was so tight,  like his skin wanted to split open, right across his heart.

 

Liquid heat...pure goddamn _need_ thrummed through him as Oliver stared him down.

 

“Please.” He all but whimpered, “God. Please.”

 

“Jesus, you're killing me. Why...Tommy...why -”

 

Tommy didn't know what exactly the question was, or if it was even a question, because Oliver cut himself off by pinning Tommy’s neck down, and kissing the hell out of him, getting more aggressive with each swipe and curl of his tongue. Fucking his mouth.

 

Every second made Tommy more hungry. Scratch hungry. No. Christ, he was fucking _starving._ Like he hadn't had Oliver in so damn long.

 

“You’re shaking.”

 

“Then do something about it!” Tommy snapped desperately. God, he was jacked, he had to focus just to breathe.

 

Oliver's lips parted as though he were going to respond, but all he did was lean in a little closer till he was panting against his mouth, tasting each of Tommy’s exhales; drawing out the seconds. And he knew exactly why - the bastard was loving the way He was trembling under him.

 

Tommy spatial awareness was fucked by Oliver's intensity. It was intimidating as hell, the way he seemed to take over the air around them, how he had Tommy transfixed, half afraid to move in case Oliver pulled the brakes on what was going down.

 

He lost track of the drum beats behind his ribs, of how long his throat burned beneath green leather.

 

“God, Tommy, look at you.  So fucking gorgeous. Your eyes right now...goddamn.”

 

“Oliver.” His name was a plea, a prayer, a demand all in one.

 

Oliver finally tilted his chin up, and brushed his lips across Tommy's softly, reverently, in complete contrast to the fingers digging into his skin. Tommy inhaled sharply through his nose, tipping his mouth open, taking Oliver deeper, as deep as he could. His tongue flicked the roof of Oliver’s mouth, along the back of his teeth. Anywhere he could reach, until Oliver jerked back suddenly, forcing Tommy’s legs down. He spun Tommy around, caged him in with his chest pressed up against his back.

 

Tommy’s head dropped forward, but Oliver's hand shot out, fingers clasping his throat again as he pulled Tommy back towards him. His back arched instinctively, pushing his ass onto the hard lines of Oliver’s cock. His eyes rolled back at the sensation of teeth over his thudding pulse.

 

“Undo your pants.” Oliver growled.

 

“Oh, fuck.”

 

“Now, Tommy.”

 

Tommy nodded his head as much as he could in Oliver’s hold as he fumbled with his belt. He was still shaking as he slid his zip down. He almost forgot how to breathe again when the downslide of his boxers exposed his flushed dick. His balls throbbed, tightened, making his asshole spasm involuntarily, even as relief spread through him, relaxing the muscles in his shoulders and back.

 

“God, Tommy,” Oliver groaned throatily, sending shivers down his spine. “Give it to me.”

 

Tommy knew exactly what Oliver wanted, and he didn't hesitate to give it to him. He ran a couple of fingers over the head of his cock, coating them with his pre-come. He felt Oliver panting as he leaned forward, and opened his mouth further.

 

Tommy twisted his wrist and brought his digits up to Oliver’s bottom lip, painting it, his tongue. Oliver damn near purred as he pulled him in deeper into his mouth, sucking, licking them clean as Tommy struggled  not to nut all over the paintwork. His other hand slipped off his jeans and underwear, and he quickly tensed his thighs enough to keep them from dropping to his ankles.

 

The sudden shock of Oliver’s hand on his dick, of skin on skin - God,  when had he taken his glove off - had Tommy clenching as his ass, fighting the dual sensation of being held by his throat, and cock.

 

“Jesus...shit.” He groaned, his voice growing tighter as heat blasted his sac, spreading like a starburst, all through him in a full body pulse.

 

“You’re so fucking close already, aren't you?” Oliver murmured in his ear.

 

“Yesss - God.” Tommy hissed.

 

Oliver’s hand pumped his length, his fingers molding till they were perfectly _oh my god_ snug, and driving him crazy. The wet glide of his fist strumming in Tommy's blood.

 

“Please -” Tommy’s voice broke as he reached back up under the hood to sink his fingers in the short strands of Oliver’s hair.

 

“Christ. Tommy.” Oliver bit out. Anger turning the words to a low, deep gravel that fucked with Tommy more than it should’ve.

 

He cursed when Oliver released him, taking both hands off his body. He started to turn around  in protest, but stopped in a half twist as Oliver dropped to a crouch behind him. He caught a flash of Oliver’s mouth quirking up sinfully at the corners before his palm  stretched across Tommy's lower back, and pushed him down till his torso was splayed across the SUV, and his ass was exposed to Oliver’s gaze.

 

He groaned and lurched back as his hard-on rubbed against unyielding metal, but the fucker grabbed hold of his hips, holding him down.

 

Tommy grunted as the contrasting feel of bare skin, and leather shot down his hamstrings, and straight through his balls. He couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath as Oliver's fingers dug a little harder against his bones.  His inhale exhaled into a rumble groan as Oliver hit him with mouth on skin contact. Warm air, his hotter mouth brushed against Tommy’s hole, while Oliver’s hands moved lower, onto his ass cheeks, spreading him wide. Two thumbs, one smooth, the other calloused,  slid inward, stroking the oh so damn sensitive skin leading down to Tommy’s taint. Or was it up…Fuck. He didn't know anymore.

 

He all but jumped out his damn skin when he felt his tongue lap at him. Followed by the drag of scruff between his cheeks. Tommy’s fingernails scraped along the hood as he tried to steady himself while Oliver groaned deeply, sending little zaps and sparks up his spine as he buried his face, licking him open as quickly as possible. Tommy pressed his palms down, gritting his teeth as his legs shook beneath Oliver’s oral assault.

 

“Oh, g- god….Fuuuck.” He wheezed as Oliver flexed his tongue and pushed inside of him. “Jesus, Oliver...oh shit...please...please.”

 

Oliver licked harder. Faster. Deeper till pinprick sensation took Tommy to the brink of too much, and down again. Over and over till he melted against Oliver’s mouth. Electric heat swirled all over. His senses focused on the point of connection between them. Oliver’s hands.  Oliver’s goddamn tongue. God, he didn't want him to stop, but he needed more. Needed it all.

 

“Oliver...please...please…” Tommy chanted breathlessly, shamelessly grinding his ass against Oliver's face. “I’m ready...I’m ready…”

 

“Tommy -”

 

“Get _in_ me already. I'm fucking ready.” He half demanded, half begged as he twisted around awkwardly so he could reach into his sagging back pocket without giving up Oliver’s tongue just yet.

 

He fumbled for one of the sachets of lube he’d taken to carrying around again for the last year and change. Tommy held it out to Oliver silently, cursing as Oliver tilted his hin slightly, holding his gaze as he continued to lick.

 

“Christ, Oliver. C’mon.” He growled.

 

“But you taste so fucking good.”

 

“I fuck so fucking good too, you asshole. You know I’d look better on your dick.”

Oliver chuckled darkly, but he stood up, making Tommy mentally praising anyone...anything listening.  Then Oliver licked his lips, and Tommy’s thanks shut the fuck down as he locked on to how wet Oliver’s scruff was. God, he had saliva dripping down his fucking chin. And his lips...all pouty and shiny.

 

Tommy’s dick spasmed, leaking even more pre-come, and he reached down to squeeze his shaft for some kind of  relief. Oliver’s palm gripped his wrist before he could, he reached around Tommy and pinched the lube out of his fingers with his gloved hand.

 

Neither of them spoke as Oliver canted his hips forward, pressing into Tommy, sliding leather against his spit slick hole. The silence was unnerving, and it ramped up the way past over stimulated energy spiralling inside him, lighting him up, as Oliver grinded against him, making sure neither of their hands got close enough to Tommy’s cock.

 

Tommy squirmed, frustrated pants escaping his lips, as Oliver kept him on edge. The more he tried to move, the harder Oliver pushed in, forcing Tommy's body to bend forward. The longer Oliver kept at it, the louder he fucking moaned. God, the sense of urgency was almost crippling.

 

“What the hell are you doing, Oliver?”

 

“Making sure you remember.”

 

“What?” Tommy didn't know if he was questioning that one thing, or everything.

 

“You can't get this from anyone else. You’re mine. No matter what, you’re mine.”

 

“That better fucking still work both ways.”

 

“Of course it does. You own me. And right now, I...I fucking hate that you do.”

 

“Show me. Show me how much.” He’d come back to the kinda disturbed warm and fuzzies Oliver’s oath gave him later. But for now, he wanted to be fucked.

 

“Jesus Christ.”

 

“Show me, Oliver.”

 

Tommy’s knees buckled against the grille when Oliver let go of him. The rasp of his pants finally lowering, the tear of the lube packet, and the squelch of the cool liquid, made Tommy's mouth water.

 

He turned the air blue as Oliver's fingertips stroked his hole, trying to ease on in. God, how much more of this shit was he supposed to take. He already felt like he was about to blow. He reached behind him and batted Oliver’s hand out of the way.

 

“I don't want your goddamn fingers. I told you I'm ready.” He snarled as he grabbed Oliver’s dick and damn near yanked his tip towards his entrance. He pushed back, not stopping till he felt the delicious stretch and burn of Oliver starting to sink inside with a sensual as shit _snuck_ he heard loud and clear.

 

“This what you wanted, Tommy...you picked a fight so you could get my dick.”

 

“Fuck off. You know-”

 

“You saying you don't, huh? Cos the way you're opening up for me right now, the way your sweet ass always let's me in, is telling me that would be a helluva lie.”

 

“Stop acting like I wasn't fucking begging for your dick, Oliver. You know why I was mad...why I'm still mad.”

 

“I know.” Oliver ground out.

  
“Then fuck it out of me. Make me even madder. I don't care right now.  Just fucking move.”

 

Tommy felt the not so subtle shift in Oliver’s body instantaneously, heard it in the snap of teeth behind him. He closed his eyes, clearly picturing the flare of heat in dilated irises he knew better than his own.

 

“You want it, then take it. Take my cock inside you.”  His super low timbre vibrated up Tommy’s neck.

 

The further Oliver sank, the more agitated Tommy became. Blood pumped savagely up the veins of his dick, his nut sac twitched as he bore down and accepted him. He already felt so fucking full, even with Oliver taking shit too slowly for his liking.

 

Tommy reached behind him, used his digits to spread open his cheeks again, tugging till it strained; till he heard Oliver growl, and he gripped Tommy’s hips so achingly tight, he swore he could feel his skin purpling. Then he sucked in a breath and thrust back till he felt Oliver's balls against his own.

 

The immediate smarting, coupled with the hit to his prostate, raised Tommy up onto his toes, his ass up, angling for more without a damn second or third thought. His hands were still the only thing in the way of him feeling Oliver’s neatly trimmed pubic hair brush up against the top of of his hole.

 

“God...damn...it, Tommy.”

 

He heard the barely tethered control. He wanted it gone.

 

Tommy worked his hands free, let his fingers drop, and trail down slightly. He cupped Oliver’s balls, and squeezed, while simultaneously arching back, and clenching his cock, relaxing his hold the way he knew drove Oliver fucking crazy.

 

“Sonofabitch -”

 

Tommy did it again.

 

“Oh, my god. Tom- my.”

 

Oliver shackled both Tommy’s wrists, and slammed them down onto the hood, pushing Tommy's ass even higher, spreading him wider. Oliver groaned as he leaned over Tommy's back. Pleasure fired from his G-spot to his cock as Oliver rolled his hips. He thrashed in agonised ecstasy, loving the way Oliver's heat blanketed him.

 

Sweat rolled between his shoulder blades as Oliver panted above him. Tommy felt his chest move with his every breath, every undulation of his fuck hot body.

 

Oliver withdrew and surged back in with one long stroke.

 

“Oh, fuck, yes.” Tommy groaned, so worked up he couldn't even stop his cock from jabbing the car, but the pain didn't seem to really register.  He just knew he was fucking dripping all over some poor asshole’s ride.

 

Oliver pulled back out, slid back in, fast and shallow, enclosing Tommy in place as he kept up a dizzying, rapid pace, grinding against his holy shit spot from alternate angles, with just enough pressure to keep Tommy on the verge of losing his fucking mind.

 

“More...more.” He rasped.

 

Oliver shifted, his pelvis rocked forward, pushing in deep. So goddamn deep.

 

“Oh, god, fasterrrr.” He croaked on a mind numbing out slide, the last word half puffed out as Oliver slammed back in all the way, sparking off every nerve ending inside him.

 

Tommy bowed back as much as he could, fighting Oliver’s grip on his wrists, but Oliver refused to let him go, and he really started pounding Tommy’s ass, thrusting so hard, the car started rocking ominously.

 

Tommy’s short fingernails clawed, scrabbled, trying to find some kind of purchase on polished metal so hard, he was pretty sure he was bleeding, but he was helpless under the punishing, dialled up a few gears stride he could only take.

 

Oliver fucked into him brutishly, his pubic bone hitting Tommy’s ass over and over as the crack of his hips  ricocheted like gunshots.

 

“Jesus, yeah, you _do_ look so good on my dick. You fucking belong right here, Tommy....shit...always so good...so hot...so tight.”

 

Tommy could barely speak, could only let out strangled “Mmm’s” , or grunts every time Oliver filled him. God, his mouth was so dry. He was overheating, totally falling apart. He needed to come so badly, he was quaking from head to toe.

 

His breath caught in his throat as the head of Oliver’s cock kissed his prostate again. Sweat dripped onto his eyelashes, his head swam, hardly able to focus on any one sensation. Everything was blurring around the edges...Christ, thinking was a struggle.

 

He flitted in between dazed and cognizant Oliver pistoned into him with sure, steady thrusts, getting more lost in the buzz in his ears, under his skin. His cock was so swollen and heavy, he could feel how flushed it was, how goddamn slick.

 

“Tilt your hips.” Oliver barked.

 

Tommy whimpered, “ Oh, goddd.” His asshole fluttered uncontrollably at the command, and expected result.

 

“C’mon- ah fuck - tilt ‘em, Tommy.” Oliver leaned back slightly, giving him room without missing a beat, “You wanted this.”

 

Tommy knew what was coming, but holy fuck, the constant drag of Oliver’s dick along his super sensitive bundle of nerves still threatened to obliterate him, and had his entire body twitching like a motherfucker, lit him up like the fourth of fucking July.

 

God, the way the leather and quiver pressed against his back, and the bottom of Oliver’s six pack rubbed the dip above Tommy’s tailbone...absolute fucking bliss - even if he missed feeling all Oliver’s skin sliding up his back. The faster Oliver thrust, the harder Tommy shook, which only spurred Oliver on. He straightened a little,  shooting bolts of lightning through Tommy’s throbbing shaft.

 

“Sh- sh- shit.” Tommy cried, his wrists twisting under Oliver’s fingers. “I - I can’t- oh, fuck. I’m gonna -” He was unhinged. Fire licked his balls, his spine, “Don’t...fucking stop.” He slurred.

 

Oliver seemed unable to reply, his hips stuttered, raw, thrumming sounds rumbled through his throat, his chest, loud enough to hum along Tommy’s nape, making his scalp tingle, pumping into him, punching out the little air he managed to draw into his lungs.

 

Tommy’s ab muscles were screaming, spasming so tightly, he knew he couldn’t possibly hold much longer. He was spacing the fuck out, falling under.

 

“O- Oli- ah -ah-” He couldn’t get anything resembling full words out, too far gone, utterly incapable of stopping the let go.

 

His balls pulled up, his thighs strained as molten heat blasted up his shaft, and spilled out of his cockhead, wiping him of sight, of smell, of hearing. Any comprehension besides never ending warmth, interminable euphoria, tinged with anger _and_ safety...protection. The combination was heady, a fucking trip and a half, powerful enough to keep him under for an immeasurable amount of time.

 

Slowly, a little disorientingly, he came back to himself, Oliver’s curses came to him from a distance, as well as a wail of something he couldn’t quite identify in that moment.

 

It took him a few moments longer to grasp that those weren’t happy, satisfied _oh fucks_ Oliver was spitting out.

 

“Tommy - fuck - _oh fuuuck_.” Oliver’s hips faltered. “Godamnnn. You with me - shit. We have to stop. Jesus. Tommy you have to get outta here...Tommy! Tom -” His name was broken off by approaching sirens, the flashes of red and blue a street away.

 

“Shit!” Tommy scrambled, panicked, still off balance as he pulled at his pants, grimacing at Oliver’s sudden withdrawal. God, he didn't have time to clean up before Oliver jerked him around to face him.

 

“You shouldn’t have fucking come here.” He reiterated, bit out through gritted teeth as he jerked yanked Tommy’s pants up angrily. Tommy winced, bile churned in his throat, putting the kibosh on any residual O after effects. Oliver pressed his forehead to Tommy’s, then quickly pressed a hard kiss against his lips, “You shouldn't have come here,” He said again, softer this time, his frantic fear clearly threaded through the murmur. “God, please, Tommy. Go...go.”                                                           

“I can't leave you -”

 

“Where did you park?” Oliver demanded,  cutting him off.

 

“Somewhere near 10th.”

 

“I’ll circle back, make sure you leave. I'll be right behind you.” Oliver gestured to that godforsaken roof.

 

“Jesus, you can't  be-” All his feelings from earlier pushed to the forefront, twisting his gut.

 

“I promise you, Tommy, but you need to go.” He scoffed as Oliver dragged him by his collar, which totally rubbed Tommy the wrong way, circumstances be damned, and shoved him towards a different hole in a different fence.

 

God, this place really was a dump.

 

“Ollie-”

 

“Go!” He hissed.”We’ll talk when I get back. I can't - you _can't_ be here.” The pain in his voice...Christ almighty.

 

“Okay...Okay. But you better get back. This shit is far from over.”

 

“I know, and I will...now get the fuck out of here!”

 

He nodded once and followed Oliver's shaken instructions. He looked back once. Watched his goddamn _heart_ shoot up towards the sky, his shadowed gaze locked onto Tommy as he landed without a sound.  

 

Tommy took a steadying breath. Prayed. Hoped his fucking car was still there. And ran.

 

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Feel free to let us know if you liked it. ~Nightkeepyr


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